My husband plays rugby, and occasionally some of his teammates come to our house for a few drinks after the club shuts. They’re all lovely so it’s never a problem.
One night I’ve already gone to bed when my husband comes home. Upstairs in our house, you can turn right at the landing for the spare room, or left for our room. I’m kipping away, until I’m half-woken by my husband standing outside the bedroom on the landing. He’s 6’3″ and muscular with spiky hair, wearing his club uniform, and he’s swaying in that classic manner of the drunken rugby player.
“Hello darling,” I croon lovingly at him. He staggers round in the very dim light, and crashes full length (and fully dressed) onto the bed beside me, rolled over to face the window. Having no idea anyone else is in the house, I curl up behind him and stroke his shoulder.“Darling?” He grunts at me. This isn’t like him, even when steaming, so I get closer, wind my arms around his neck and whisper, “Babe?”
You’ve guessed it. He rolls over and he ISN’T my husband! My husband is downstairs – this player took the wrong turning at the landing and thought he was in the spare room! We both stared at each other in total shock, then I screamed and we both shot backwards to the edges of the bed. He then passed out and snored. My husband came upstairs and laughed like a drain, as did everyone else when they found out.
Poor man. He’s usually the shy and retiring type and he was so embarrassed in the morning. I’m used to rugby players so I thought it was hilarious – he definitely came off worse! 0911-09
OOOPS! heeee heeee! It was serendipitous he crashed like a fallen tree on the bed *beside* you.